


40 Weeks

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22877308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Harry is 40 weeks pregnant.He is overjoyed. He is scared. About the complexity. About the duality of experiencing the most momentous yet most natural thing in the world. The absurdity of this feeling of not wanting to let go, never letting go. The way he’s holding on too tightly already. The rawness of missing someone, while still there, so close to his heart, in his heart.Balance is key, but there’s just this unsettling feeling of walking on a tightrope, balance off, that he might fall.
Relationships: Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	40 Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much Emma (@sashinalash on Tumblr) for being an amazing beta.

40 weeks  
\---------

I am not prepared for this, Harry thinks, while he looks down to his huge nine-month bump. He is prepared for how huge his belly is becoming.  
He didn't make gestures of baby bumps on stage for years for nothing. He is prepared for the pain, for the uncomfortable feeling a pregnancy inevitably brings. 

He is blessed with a high pain tolerance anyway and he feels like nothing is undoable, intolerable, pain-wise. It is only natural, Harry thinks.  
Harry is quite fit and blessed with plenty of energy. Besides that, he knows how to deal with exhaustion; he learned that the hard way.  
Really, dealing with being exhausted because of this pregnancy is easy, Harry finds. 

Emotionally, that's another case. An entirely different story. There's so much strength, yet so much vulnerability.  
Going back and forth, one then the other, or a strange mix. In some ways he feels like he’s back at square one.  
Over the years, he learned to tone down his sensitive side a bit. To build a wall around him.  
Only Louis, his family and his closest friends are allowed to climb the wall; to take down the bricks, one by one.

Louis knocked him up, finally. Harry wanted this. He wanted this right from the start. When he met Louis at sixteen, he definitely wanted this, right back then. He's over the moon. Louis will be the best dad he can imagine, and that… says a lot.  
It's just that he can't control his emotions anymore, ever since this whole thing started.  
Ever since this, this life inside him. He feels so open to the world. Harry misses the wall he carefully built around him. His heart is so full of love for everyone and everything. At least he was able to control it before. Harry always loved to let Louis know how much he appreciated him. To show him his love like raindrops falling from the sky, drop upon drop. Now it pours. It pours from Harry: affection and appreciation. And Harry is ashamed of it. Or at least, feels weird about it.

It feels like he could explode with pride and with fondness for the tiniest things. Not even related to the baby inside him, or to Louis.  
Harry feels overwhelmed. Like he never felt before. His world was always bright, but now it’s super bright. Harry wishes he could wear heart-shaped sunglasses all the time, to hide from the world, to filter everything. 

A heart-shaped shield around his soul to protect him from this, this overloving. His love is falling out over everything. He masters the art of loving.  
It's like he's been nominated for the Pulitzer prize for his first novel. A baby is something he fiercely wished for, but at the same time, now: it feels like it's too much. It's like co-hosting the Met Gala without having attended even once. It's a dream, a wish; but when it happens it feels unreal. 

Harry has lost control and it's scary.

No matter how much Louis assures him every time that there is absolutely no reason to feel ashamed, it's not enough. 

The rain doesn't apologise for falling. It's just there, just like Harry's feelings. Frankly, Louis loves to stand in the pouring rain of Harry’s appreciation and affection until he's soaked through. Drenched.

Louis has been warned by so many, jokingly telling him the coming months would be filled with Harry’s mood swings. Well-meaning people patting him on his back and wryly wishing him good luck.  
Well, lucky—that he certainly is. He never really needs the good luck wishes though. Harry handles everything so well. Louis is just enjoying the ride. In more than one way, hormones are turning Harry into the clingiest and the neediest version of himself. And Louis is just fine with that.

When Louis suggests that it might be a good idea to put all Harry’s feelings of overflowing love into a song, Harry agrees. Maybe something good will come from it, all this clinginess, which Harry is afraid will push away his loved ones. Even though they assure him he will not, he could not.  
Harry his written hundreds of songs over the years. Most of them are never meant to see the light of the day. He writes just for him, to express himself, for himself. 

Expressing his feelings in a song might be a good way to process some of this, Harry thinks, to release. A song just for Louis, and their baby he's carrying, loving.  
A baby boy or a baby girl, or whoever they decide to be.  
Same eyes blue.  
Harry jokingly named the little one that—Same Eyes Blue—secretly hoping it turns out their baby has the most beautiful blue eyes, Louis’ eyes. Blue like the Mediterranean Sea on a sunny day with a light breeze, yellow sand accentuating the blueness of the water. It's a running joke between them.  
Now, they just don't want to discuss any other name. They’ve settled with Blue. Simple and short. Perfect for every gender. Harry knows that he will keep on using the nickname Same Eyes Blue, as it reminds him of the two most important people in his life. 

Harry hasn’t drunk any alcohol for months, but he's drunk on endorphins now and he needs to write and compose it out.

So, Erskine studios is the place where he's hiding now. 

Harry picks up the guitar, one of the guitars he brought with him on tour last year. The Fender Telecaster with a rainbow sticker behind the strings.  
Somehow it's important to him to record the song with this guitar. It's really inconvenient to play guitar with a nine-month bump. In fact, it's nearly impossible.  
He doesn't care and tries as hard as he can to reach the strings. 

He is overjoyed. He is scared. He feels such a desire to write a song about it. About the complexity. About the duality of experiencing the most momentous yet most natural thing in the world. The absurdity of this feeling of not wanting to let go, never letting go. The way he’s holding on too tightly already. The rawness of missing someone, while still there, so close to his heart, in his heart. Balance is key, but there’s just this unsettling feeling of walking on a tightrope, balance off, that he might fall. 

Then again without taking any risks—

It's mind-blowing. Louis is there for him through it all. He understands, even though he's not the one experiencing it. That is everything.  
It's obvious that his mind is wandering; a beautiful chaos.  
He's caught up in his own dreamy world. Like the world turns, but at a slower pace, a pace designed just for him, Louis and the little one.  
Nothing else matters anymore, the most closed-off off he's ever been. His thoughts are like clouds against a blue sky: the clouds come and go, but the blue sky stays and that makes him feel so much… lighter?

It calms him to strike the strings gently and just play a sweet melody. An orchestra is playing along in his imagination. He can't come up with coherent ideas for a song and Harry doesn't care that much, allowing himself to just waste some time. To just be, a soft focus on the melody, over and over. 

And then there's Louis. He's carrying a tray of drinks. Hot water, teabags in different flavours, caffeine free coffees with caramel and vanilla shots. Lately, it's so unpredictable, Louis just doesn't know what Harry would like.

“Hey angel, fancy a drink?” 

It takes Harry a few seconds to leave his daydream, and then he's there too.  
Louis puts the tray on the floor and looks up to Harry, in awe. Louis stands up again, glancing at Harry's nipples, visible through his shirt.  
He can't avoid looking at them. They're just so out there all the time, even more than before. And they're just so sensitive. Flashbacks of Harry whimpering at the slightest brush, the tiniest blow against his firm breasts and nipples are playing on his mind. 

“Lou, can you please touch me? I can't have you coming here and just looking at me, please”. 

Louis gently folds his hands around Harry's face and smirks. Slowly, his hands are gliding down Harry's shirt and then disappearing under it. His shirt is blocking the view; it's all about Harry's comfort now.  
Even without the actual view, Louis can paint high-definition pictures in his mind, like there's a special place in his mind reserved for these images.  
They pop up at the most random moments. He sees the images when he closes his eyes. It's so much more intense now he's actually touching Harry under his shirt. Harry’s breasts are so firm now. 

Louis follows the line with his fingertips.  
A hill; his finger climbs it slowly. That kind of hill with waving shamrock coloured grass, a light breeze accompanying the sun’s rays peeking through soft white clouds. That kind of hill covered in wildflowers, free to pick whenever you want, how many you want. That kind of hill you can run down from the top—not too steep but steep enough to feel yourself flying a little. 

It seems like Harry's oxytocin level is in overdrive. The cuddle hormone is racing through his veins, a race that started nine months ago with the finish nowhere in sight.  
With Louis closely next to him, his hands like a whisper, softly caressing his nipples, it doesn't even feel like there's something racing anymore.  
It feels like he's diving, deep sea diving, plenty of oxygen to keep him safe, on top of the world whilst also being as deep down as he can get. The adrenaline rush of surfing a wave that turns out way higher than expected, an immense force washing over you but still managing to get out on top of the wave. An off-piste ski ride, powdery snow so fresh like it's fairy floss and it's breaking the rules, but it makes your heart race with happiness and freedom. 

Clearly, Harry is a bit of a thrill seeker. But all he's ever done in the search for that feeling, that feeling of ultimate freedom… all of it means nothing compared to the feeling he has now.  
Louis, simply touching his breasts, blowing soft kisses while he simultaneously touches Harry's belly. 

"I've got you, angel", Louis says, knowing how deeply Harry feels right now.

Their little one moves, and kicks, and they both smile. It hurts but it's good. It's reassuring.  
All the things in the world you can do to get a kick out of, to seek that thrill, can never compare with this. Harry is so sure of it. It makes him dizzy with want, and dizzier with arousal too.  
\---  
Harry is getting uncomfortable: his clothes too tight, his belly too heavy.  
He's grateful he's wearing a skirt. He has started wearing skirts lately, and in hindsight he can't remember what prompted it. He can't remember. He just remembers the feeling. So vividly. 

On his feet he's wearing tan loafers and pink comfy socks. They're actually really comfortable, and everyone who claims they aren't clearly hasn’t tried them on. The pink socks are quite convenient too, as he has a tendency to get cold easily. Louis likes to make fun of his loafers sometimes but makes sure that he never makes fun of Harry. He's way too fond of his spouse, who's just wearing whatever makes him feel good. 

To Harry, it's just a natural state of being, fluidly, a constant mix of womanhood and manhood. A dark pregnancy line underneath his happy trail is the ultimate representation of that. 

A few months ago, there was a worrying feeling hidden deep inside him. A small but lingering discomfort.  
Would he ever be able to express the love he has inside him? Will he ever be good enough?  
Would he be able to love Blue as much as they deserve? Because the love he has for Louis consumes him entirely. Is there even some space left for a different kind of love? Are there boundaries of how much he can feel? How much does love stretch, and when it stretches, will it ever snap? Will it affect his love for Louis, years and years of accumulated love and affection? It's a force he feels coming, and Harry is ready to embrace it. That doesn't mean that he tries to hold on to the familiar, just the two of them, as long as he can.  
Harry has admitted his feelings to Louis before, bodies touching, close. 

"Is there even any space left?", Harry whispered.

Louis smiled at that, a simple "I believe in you, you will be the best parent in the world," enough to extract Harry from of the feeling and feel reasonable again, ready to embrace the unknown.  
Confident that his love for Blue can co-exist with his love for Louis. There is nothing to be afraid of.  
Harry keeps what is meaningful to him and learns to let go of the rest. It feels authentic. He's still unable to explain that properly. It leaves him speechless, not able to say the words. A warm feeling washes over him. Hope.  
A soft warm feeling followed by burning hot embarrassment, shame. It keeps returning, the fear that he is feeling too much. 

Louis understands though. Louis, a constant factor of support, a force of encouragement. Louis has told him over and over again that you can't stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.  
Louis guides him gently to the bed, next to the studio. Long legs, loose limbs. One move and his hands glide back under Harry's shirt, searching. His breasts still as firm and puffy as they were before. They haven’t grown much. They're still the same, except the colour of his nipples. They're darker, bubblegum pink before and almost purple now, the kind of purple that's visible in the velvet sky on an early morning, a sign it will start to rain sometime soon. 

Louis is taking his time to check up on Harry. Is he comfortable? He wants to be sure Harry won't end up with any back pain, cramps. 

“Lou, I'm fine, don't stop!”. 

“Just checking baby. You're so impatient! I love you. I want you to be comfortable”, Louis says. Harry just takes Louis’ hands again. Louis’ fingertips kissing his chest. Then, the world is tingling. His body is tingling.  
Then, all of a sudden, but at the same time hoped for, anticipated, expected. Lips, tenderly brushing.  
A tongue, flickering. Breaths, in and out, cold sensations. A small white drop, escaping his nipples. Louis, loving it all.

Moans, escaping Harry’s mouth. Speechless, wordless, and all he can do is nod when Louis asks if he is still okay, if he is still comfortable. Their hands meet on top of Harry’s belly. Fingertips against fingertips, heartbeat against heartbeat. There is no space, no room to move, to be active, to do anything. The only possibility is to lie down, let Louis take care of him, to let it all wash over him. To realise that this will never come back. Louis admiring his nine-months’ pregnant body, his already hazy mind, already lost for words.  
Harry's mouth curves into a smile and at the same time his eyes are shimmering with tears. What a wild ride and how blissful the experience of it all.  
Harry’s knows this feeling will never come back. Louis caresses him and Harry knows, he feels it in his bones, that this is a goodbye.  
\---  
A goodbye, and also a first hello. A first hello as he feels his body gets ready for the next stage, the actual birth. Louis has joked about how his pain kink might help him through it all, and Harry thinks that it's not that, but rather his stubbornness that has made him decide to give birth at home. To not call anyone, to let Louis sleep and to not wake him up, to be here in the middle of the night, or whenever, all alone, fully aware of what's going to happen yet somehow also unaware of his surroundings already.  
He needs this time alone. He will wake Louis up later, when he needs some support. He won't prevent Louis being part of this. 

But right now Harry wants to be alone, alone with his unstoppable love for Blue, for his unaware spouse. Everything is unrelenting, like a hurricane through his soul, every corner touched, changed forever. 

Harry walks to the bedroom, sits down, grasps Louis' hand. Trying to hold on. Trying to find a steady base, as if everything around him is getting dragged into the storm. 

And Harry knows, he knows that their love will endure the heavy weather, as long as they hold on to each other. And holding on is something they can do. 

With his cheeks wet with tears now, he wakes Louis up with the gentlest kiss he's ever given, the look in his eyes enough to tell the whole story of the past few hours, of the past eight years, of the depth of the love between them. They'll make it together, no matter what.


End file.
